


All the Sweeter

by oninofukuchou (OrderOfRevan)



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Hamamura Mikoto - Freeform, Rating subject to change, Vingette Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23176483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrderOfRevan/pseuds/oninofukuchou
Summary: Hijikata didn't mean to be drawn to her, but you don't always pick what your mind chooses to focus on ...And you sure as hell can't control your heart.
Relationships: Hijikata Toshizou/Original Character
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

It took him ages to figure out why the hell she was there. 

Only an idiot could possibly look at a lady and think her thoughts were simple, especially if he paid one damn bit of attention to his mother and sisters … But her motivations still left him fucking baffled beyond all reason. 

Sure, lots of ladies might have reasons to put on a pair of hakama and hide as a man. 

Wasn’t hard for him to picture that in his mind, when he really thought about it -- But this lady seemingly wasn’t hiding from shit and had no other reason to pretend to be a man than that she wanted to join up with them. For whatever reason she’d gotten into her head, she was willing to strap a sword to her waist and get scrapes and bruises all over her body, even take a punch or two from that bastard Serizawa. 

Not that the fact that she was a woman would stop him. 

Exhaling, he looked up at the sky before swirling his tea around in his cup and draining it to the dregs. A breeze stirred the trees in the garden and his fingers switched, stress making him wish he hadn’t given up smoking for the briefest of moments before the sound of the bushes rustling drew his attention. 

“You have about two seconds to show yourself before I come in there after you,” he growled in warning, setting his cup down on the veranda beside him. 

There was no loud noise of protest, so it wasn’t Shinpachi or Sano, and no mewl or bark to indicate the animal unlucky enough to stumble into their home. Instead, the bushes just … parted, and out came the woman, battered and bruised with a split lip, her dark hair clinging to skin that had the sheen of sweat in the moonlight. 

She stared at him with dead-tired eyes, daring him to challenge her as she hoisted a bokken over her shoulder and stood there like a statue. He doubted if she was even breathing, for a second, until she shifted just enough that one of the blisters on her hands burst and she dropped her bokken with a hiss. 

Clicking his tongue, he slipped back into his sandals and walked over to her, seizing her wrist so that he could examine the damage she was doing to herself. It was like the wounds a lot of kids got on their hands when they were just little guys taking up a shinai for the first time in their lives… Except that no one had noticed, apparently, or thought to give her proper treatment for it. 

“What the hell, Hamamura?” he demanded, imagining her showing up at the few dojos nearby and getting her ass squarely handed to her. “How long have you been pulling this shit?” 

She glowered but didn’t pull her hand away, letting him scrutinize her, which he considered to her credit. It was better than having someone bitching in his ear constantly, even when her response was sullen and resigned.

“Awhile,” she said with a noncommittal shrug,“I’d figured I had better improve myself or you’d kick me out before too long.” 

He stared at her for a moment before grunting, tugging her along by the wrist to sit her on the veranda where she batted her eyelashes at him in clear confusion. Motioning for her to stay put, he kicked his sandals back off before making his way to his room, barking at the men in the hall to bring him some hot sake out to the garden veranda as soon as possible. 

How could she want to be part of the Mibu Roshigumi so badly that she’d put herself through this kind of thing on purpose? Sure, some ladies learned a bit of self defense here and there - Souji’s sister Mitsu, for example - but he’d never met one crazy enough to rub her own hands raw while training. 

Her desperation … 

It would make most people question if she was all there, especially because she  _ was _ a woman. If he was right about her age, she should probably be married and have at least one kid by now, but instead she was putting on a pair of hakama and strapping a sword to her waist to play samurai. 

Except … 

Man, there was something he admired about that. 

He entered his room and found what he needed in seconds, holding the packet of fine powder in his hands for just a moment before he tucked it into his sleeve along with some bandages. She’d need to make sure that her scrapes and abrasions didn’t get infected and though there wasn’t much he could do for her lip, he’d at least make sure she could pick up her own damn sword. 

Truth be told, he probably should have kicked her out on her ass a long time ago, but she was a ballsy woman and he appreciated her for it. If she wanted to be here so badly, wanted it enough to risk her life over it, he couldn’t rightfully throw her out --

And still call himself a samurai, at least. 

In short work, he found himself back with her on the veranda with Gen-san. The man was smiling at her the way he always did - like he was with family - pausing to wave Hijikata over. At Gen-san’s feet sat the hot sake he’d asked for, steaming in the chilly night air and somehow reminding him of wet, cold early springs when you’d wake up and the world was dewy. 

Made him miss the drinking they did whenever the money’d come in … Though of course they could drink whenever the hell they wanted now, he supposed. 

Dismissing himself, Gen-san left him alone with the woman, who was staring out at the dirt with an expression that could ferment soy. Idly, her fingers scratched at the blisters on her palms, and she winced every time she managed to make one burst … Which he supposed just went to show her lack of inexperience with this shit. 

The wood creaked as he sat down next to her and then grabbed her hand, looking at her face to find her already staring back at him. She was a calm kind of lady, it seemed, the sort not to be ruffled by someone getting up and in her personal space … Which was a damn good thing, given her apparent chosen profession. 

“So how long were you planning on sneaking around behind our backs, Hamamura?” he asked, cleaning the grime and blood from the hand he was holding, like he’d done for dojo brats plenty of times before. “Or were you just going to keep getting your ass kicked every night and be exhausted for your duties?” 

This time, she had the sense to look abashed and dropped her eyes, her brows furrowing over them to match the frown that had taken over her face, “I didn’t want to burden any of you by putting the onus to train me on you. I thought I should take responsibility for myself and make the effort on my own time, by my own power.” 

He narrowed his eyes, staring at her for a long moment as he thought about how similar that was to the way he used to think, back before he’d really gotten to know Kondou-san. Clicking his tongue in disapproval, he wrapped the bandage firmly around her hand and shook his head, taking her other hand as he gathered his thoughts. 

“Listen,” he began, “you’re part of our group. Sure, you’re not the best fighter, but you have other strengths.” Even without her hum of acknowledgement he would have continued, but it was good to know she was paying attention. “You notice shit, you work hard, and you take orders well. Not everyone here has the most common sense, but you’ve got a solid head on your shoulders… Sure, you can barely swing a sword and you’re about as sturdy as a twig shack in a typhoon--” 

Her eyes flew open wide and she began to laugh, her newly bandaged hand pressing against his shoulder as she doubled over. All he could do for a moment was stare, feeling his face grow hot before he pushed at her, watching her topple over onto the veranda, still laughing. If her ribs were at all bruised, it had to have hurt like a bitch… 

And yet there she was, losing her shit over what he thought was an apt comparison. 

“You really are from the countryside, aren’t you?” she managed, wrapping her arm around her torso to steady herself. “You sounded just like my uncle.” 

“Shut up,” he grumbled. “You know damn well what I said is true, Hamamura. Didn’t anyone teach you how to take a compliment?” 

Her smile turned more gentle and she pushed herself up into the sitting position, all the tension that’d been in her expression earlier vanished. Glancing away from him, she looked back out onto the garden with a quiet kind of smile, speaking in a near-whisper.

“Thank you,” she brushed her sweat-damp hair out of her face. “If I’d shown up in front of any other samurai group, they would have laughed me away for being a fool. You didn’t have to show me kindness or accept me, but you have, and I suppose that only proves I was right to be drawn to you in the first place.” 

“Drawn to me?” he asked, gesturing to himself, her flushed face and shy nod enough of an answer. 

Of all the reasons for a woman to show up here, put on hakama, and strap a sword to her hip … That had hardly been the first one he’d have thought of. Sure, women had done things to get his attention before but this didn’t feel like any of those. It wasn’t like she was batting her eyes at him or trying to get his attention; hell, she didn’t even seem to be trying to appeal to his sympathies in any way. 

“Why?” he asked, pouring her the sake and shoving the Ishida sankyu towards her, “drink that. It will help with the aches and pains you’ve likely been feeling from getting the shit kicked out of you regularly.” 

She did as he said, tipping it back into her mouth and chasing it with the sake, the look on her face the same as everyone after they tasted it. Like his brother’d always said; you knew it was working if it tasted like ass. 

“You might not remember, but when you first came to Kyoto, you stopped a group of ronin from extorting my employers,” Hamamura said, taking a second drink of hot sake, her mouth occupied long enough for him to think about it. 

“Wait…” Hijikata narrowed his eyes and tried to picture her in a lady’s kimono, an image snapping into place in his mind. “Pottery girl?”

She smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of her neck, setting the little cup down between them. There was a flush on her cheeks, and he wondered if it was because of the booze or due to embarassment. 

“That was me,” she admitted, her eyes never leaving him. “That day, I think I understood what the spirit of the samurai was for the first time and it captivated me. I wanted to know more about you and the kind of group that could harbor someone like you, so I decided that I would dress up as a man and join up.” 

Hamamura laughed, just a bit self-deprecating, and tossed her head back to look up at the sky where the moon already hung. Tonight it was waxing, getting bigger as the month crept towards its zenith, just starting to crest the high point on its journey through the endless ink well of the heavens. 

“It was stupid, in retrospect, but I’m grateful you took me in anyway. I feel like I’m finally starting to understand what I saw in your eyes that day,” she touched the bokken, which she’d set on the veranda beside her, fingers tracing the grain in the wood with thoughtful intensity; it made him realize there was a lot to her, the kind of lady who you’d never know unless you really tried to understand her. 

… A woman who’d chase a dream all the way here, to this place where she’d be just as much at the mercy of the era as any warrior. 

“It’s probably not that much different than what brought you here,” Hijikata said, reaching out to pour himself some of the sake, just a bit, enough to make the moon glow brighter. “It takes a lot to resolve yourself to do this kind of shit, especially just based on curiosity.” 

“Not that,” she objected suddenly, leaning towards him so that he could clearly see the amber of her eyes, “it was inspiration. The very first I’ve felt in a long time … Since the blackships in Edo Bay, probably.” 

“Inspiration?” he prompted, draining his cup in a single gulp, appreciative of the burn of it at the back of his throat, warming him as it went down. 

“I’m a writer,” she said, though it sounded to him like a confession, the kind of shit that you didn’t say out loud unless it was to someone you really trusted. “When I saw you … I wanted to write about you. It may be fooli--”

“It’s not,” he said, then sighed and repeated himself, “it’s not. I don’t care what you do as long as you still do whatever other work you have.” 

He wanted to say more, but it was hard for him to put his thoughts into words. 

S’not like women didn’t write political manifestos sometimes, or even poetry and shit like that … But she seemed to be talking about something different. It was like her mind was captivated by the wrong ideas, attracted to the exact things it shouldn’t be attracted to, drawn in like a moth to the glow of a lantern. 

She looked at those out of reach things, like ships haunting the horizon, and she wanted to touch them. 

“I’ve spent a long time getting bruised and beat up for the Roshigumi,” Hamamura said, looking down at her bandaged hands and flexing them. “Some things can only be understood by experiencing them.” 

“All I can say is that you’ve got a pair, Hamamura,” he poured her another drink, handing her the cup. 

Her eyes shone as she laughed, taking the cup from him, her smile so soft and bright that he found himself there was no way in hell anyone who was paying attention could ever mistake her for a man. 

“I’ll drink to that,” she tipped the cup to him and he snorted, miming her motions as he picked up the carafe. 

“Cheers,” he said, slamming back a quick drink of sake. 

Above them, the moon glowed brightly in the night sky. 

\--

He sat on the ground, his jaw set as she sat behind him and cleaned the wounds he couldn’t quite reach. 

Serizawa was a fresh corpse somewhere, though he didn’t want to fucking think about that right now. Instead he focused on Hamamura’s hands and the sound of the rain pounding on the roof, washing away all the evidence of the assasssination. 

The Shinsengumi was theirs now. 

“You really got knocked around,” Hamamura said, pulling away so that he could shrug back into his kimono. “I’m continually impressed at how well you take a hit.” 

“I’ve spent the better part of my life getting the shit beat out of me,” he said, turning around to get a look at her, mud and blood still smeared across her face. “When I was a brat I’d run around Tama getting into fights with all the other boys over stupid shit. After that, I decided I should start practicing at every damn dojo I could just to be able to hold something sword-shaped in my hands.” 

He reached out unconsciously for the damp hand towel she’d been using, waiting for her reply. 

“I can picture that,” her eyes closed and she smiled, “a young Hijikata-san, taking bokken in hand and picturing it as a katana.” 

“Shut up,” he grumbled as he took a step towards her, reaching out to soothe the cloth across her filthy face. “I bet you used to pretend everything you wrote was going to be read by important government officials.” 

Her cheeks burned and she froze, looking up into his face with a stunned expression. 

Something about the look in her eyes made him freeze, his hand still hovering over her face, Hamamura’s expression pulling him in. Her skin was soft to the touch, lashes casting dark shadows on her skin as a streak of lightning flashed across the sky, and suddenly he was very aware that she was a woman. 

“Sorry,” he grunted, stepping back.

Hamamura only smiled and reached out to grab the hand towel from him, her eyes flickering towards the shoji that opened up onto the veranda. Thunder rumbled as she stepped forward, pulling the doors open to let the hiss of rain in, reminding him of those sudden summer storms back home. 

The air was thick with the smell of it, wet and green, the trees in the garden shaking in the wind. Floor creaking as he moved, he made his way to her side where she gazed into the storm, her dark hair still damp, the strange brightness of the weather making Serizawa’s fingerprints stand out against the skin of her neck. 

Dark bruises that filled him with a violent rage.

The fucking bastard -- 

He’d gotten just what he deserved. 

“How can a year come to an end, just like that?” Hamamura asked him, snapping his attention back to the present moment. “I came here to learn about you and I ended up a co-conspirator in the assassination of a political figure.” 

“You’re telling me,” he snorted, turning his attention towards the garden as another crack of thunder sounded, nothing more than a distant rumble now. “Hell, just a year ago I was some medicine peddler turned dojo rat. Now I’m … “ 

“Hijikata Toshizou, Vice-Chief of the Shinsengumi,” Hamamura’s voice was almost lost to the howling wind. “I guess that actually means something real now.” 

Her words hit him hard, Serizawa’s blank stare and smile as the life drained from him sparking through his mind as lightning arced across the sky. Oni or not, no matter what it had taken them to get here, she was right. 

He’d spent so long working his ass off, so long resenting every breath Serizawa breathed, that he hadn’t had time to think about fuck-all else. 

This… 

This was… 

“Shit,” he reached up, running his shaking hand through his hair and laughing, chest swelling with … something; a sense of accomplishment, maybe? 

They’d done it.

They’d done the fucking impossible, even if no one in the entire damn world acknowledged it. 

One way or another, they’d taken their big first step and become samurai. 

“Do you need a moment?” Hamamura asked, still looking out onto the garden. 

“I don’t know,” Hijikata said, walking out onto the veranda and sitting down, his muscles aching; and yet it was proof he was alive. 

For awhile he just sat there, sure Hamamura had left him to do whatever it was she did when she wasn’t working. Probably writing, he thought, like he’d caught her doing a few times, fingers somehow stained with ink, sleeves rolled up as she peered over her paper with a scrutinous eye. Hamamura looked in her element like that, though she looked just as much at home when she was reading out responses from officials for him. 

Never in a million years had he thought he’d actually take any kind of page, but … 

The creaking of the wooden planks beneath her feet gave her return away and he turned his head just in time to see her kneeling with a tray holding a tea kettle and a few cups. Smiling at him as she poured, he could see she’d changed out of her muddy clothes and into something else, nodding in acknowledgement as he accepted the cup. 

“Thanks,” he said before taking a sip, the tea warming him from the inside. “You know, it doesn’t feel real yet. It might, once Matsudaira-sama contacts us again and I get dressed in my formal clothes to go see him… And there’s no fucking Nimi and no Serizawa hanging over our shoulders acting like their asses own us.” 

She drank from her cup with a look of consideration on her face, just like she always did when she was really thinking about what to say to him. It was one of the things he appreciated about her, that she was a smart woman, the kind of woman who’d actually give him the kind of answers he wanted. 

He could have long, meandering conversations with her about any old shit and she’d meet him blow for blow. 

Just like Kondou-san. 

“I think it was always going to have to be the two of you if the Shinsengumi was going to last,” she said at last. “Serizawa-san wasn’t capable of controlling himself. I think there were moments of brilliance, there, maybe of the man he used to be a long time ago… But in the end, the only way he was going to find peace was through death.” 

Hijikata could picture that smile with so much clarity he knew there was no way in hell he’d ever forget it. That look of complete peace, a look that he’d never thought that bastard would be capable of in making … 

She was right. 

Had Serizawa baited him into it? Or had he known from that moment their eyes had met at Honjou-ya? Did he know that Hijikata would be the one to kill him? 

“You see things in a different way,” Hamamura continued after a brief lapse, her thoughtful tone washing over him and harmonizing with the sound of the rain as it finally began to fade into a gentle shower. “You weren’t born samurai so you don’t have all the hang ups men like Serizawa-san had… Or that I see in Saito-san or even Okita-kun. You look into the soul of the principles warriors hold dear and adhere to those instead of several centuries of tradition. It’s that vision that sets you apart from other Roshi groups, and that I believe is so attractive to the numerous born-samurai who have given you their support.” 

Hijikata looked at her, profile lit by the flickering lanterns overhead and the moonlight just starting to peer through the parting clouds. 

She was proud and poised, the picture of a lady who’d long since learned how she should hold herself to make the best impression. There was a lot to be impressed by in that, but what was even more impressive was how so much of herself still shone through all that bullshit… The spark in those amber eyes of hers, the fire and the steel that had faced down Serizawa and come out alive.

“Apparently, it was attractive to you, too,” he said, shifting his weight, “but that’s probably because you’re not so conventional yourself.” 

She blinked at him, then smiled as a slight blush brushed the tips of her ears.

“Maybe,” she admitted, “but it’s not such a bad thing, being here with you. Right now, I can’t think of any place I’d rather be.” 

“Then you don’t have to,” Hijikata said, tipping his cup to her in acknowledgement. “Long as you need us, we’re here. I think you’ve worked hard enough to earn that much, at least.” 

She laughed, the sound just as warm as tea when he swallowed it. 

\--

Hamamura was breathless with laughter, leaning against his shoulder for support as Kondou-san sat across from them with his fist shoved into his mouth. It was a trick Hijikata’d seen before more than half a dozen times, but it was just as amusing now as it had been the first time. 

Hard to believe that was almost ten fucking years ago, now. 

Even harder to believe it’d only been a few years since they’d picked up Hamamura. 

“You think that’s funny, you should see Sanosuke’s belly dance,” Kondou-san admitted after a wet ‘pop’ as he pulled his hand from his mouth. “My trick is really nothing compared to that.” 

“I’ll ask him to show me some time,” Hamamura said with her trademark polite smile that didn’t reach her eyes… Eyes instead glittering with mischievousness and joy, “maybe next time he and Naga-kun drag me off to Shimabara.”

Hijikata snorted, picturing those three idiots drunk out of their minds with Hamamura only mildly buzzed, watching as they made fools of themselves. She was a strong drinker … Stronger than he was, though it’s not like he’d ever say that out loud.

He didn’t need her getting a big head. 

“I’m continually impressed at how well you’ve adjusted to life among a bunch of unruly men,” Kondou-san continued. “We’ve asked a lot of you, and you’ve met the challenge every time, even while having to adjust to what was surely an odd world for you to find yourself in.” 

“If I were like Chizuru and didn’t choose this myself, I might accept that compliment,” Hamamura said with a smile, “but I chose this, and I’ll be honest … It’s liberating for me to be around people who seem to like me for who I am.” 

Hijikata got the sentiment.

Meeting Kondou-san had changed everything for him and been his introduction to the concept of hope. He’d grit his way through all the shit he’d had to face up to that point, getting by through willpower alone and just pray he landed on his feet one day. 

“I have a hard time imagining someone as kind as you having a difficult time making friends,” Kondou-san said in that way he always did, where his endless warmth found a way of making the prejudices of other people look fucking stupid. “You’ve done nothing but support us since you arrived, and I know you’ve done a lot for Toshi.”

“Watch it,” he grumbled, narrowing his eyes, “I don’t need you compromising my reputation.” 

She laughed, then reached down to stuff something into her face, giving Hijikata the impression that she had something on her mind. They’d known each other long enough now - it had been over two damn years already -- and he could read her like she was a travel guide. There was a hell of a lot about her face right now that was telling, from the slight furrow between her brow to the way she looked at her rice instead of meeting Kondou-san’s eyes. 

Not that he was inclined to bring that shit up. 

Not here. 

“That’s right,” Kondou-san said with a cheeky nod, “I need to make sure my Vice-Chief maintains his fearsome reputation. How else would we keep the men in line?” 

“Exactly,” Hijikata said, pointing straight at Kondou-s chest, “and don’t you dare forget it.” 

They spent the rest of the afternoon in that little restaurant, parting ways when duty called to both of them. 

Kondou-san headed to deal with the Kyoto governing bodies in cooperation with the Aizu so that they could actually follow-up the shit they’d learned at Ikeda-ya. 

Hijikata went with Hamamura back to Mibu to look over the Inspectors reports and see if there was anything within the Shinsengumi itself that needed addressing. 

It was on the way back that he finally brought up the expression she’d made --

After all, he couldn’t have his page acting distracted during such important work; work that would determine which men would fall on their own swords in the coming days. 

“So what the hell was going on with you earlier, Hamamura?” he asked, watching her brows twitch in response. “You have some kind of problem with being personable?” 

Hamamura snorted, but whatever surely  _ humorous _ response she was about to give him she swallowed. Instead, her face turned serious and she paused, standing still for a moment as she looked up at the sky, daylight already starting to fade into the expanse of night as the first stars winked into existence in the west. 

“He’s wrong, you know,” she said, “I’m not good at making friends.”

“This is the guy who says I’m likable,” Hijikata replied, his expression turning softer in spite of himself, his hand falling heavily on her shoulder. “Kondou-san always sees the best parts of people, even the things they don’t see in themselves. If I were you, I’d take it as a compliment of how highly he thinks of me instead of getting down on myself for not living up to his expectations.” 

She was a smart lady. 

He could already see her mind processing his words by looking into her amber eyes, understanding swimming in their depths. Still, she hesitated to nod, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth before she instead heaved a shrug. 

“I agree with him,” she said after a moment. “I think you are likable.”

Her words made him pause, catching him off guard. 

Sure, he knew Hamamura liked him well enough ... Hell, she almost had to as a professional courtesy, but she was a weird woman. Most of the other people who liked him were pretty damn strange, themselves, one way or another … And everyone else was just proud of him because he was a homespun boy who’d gone off to do big things in Kyoto. 

“You don’t have to say that,” he said. “I know my reputation.” 

“Your reputation isn’t who you are,” she objected. “Maybe you put on airs -- okay,” she laughed, kicking a rock on the ground hard enough that she brought up puffs of dust. “You for sure put on airs, but when it comes down to it you’re not a cruel person. A lot of the things you do … I mean.”

She sucked in a deep breath and rubbed the back of her neck, Hijikata watching as her cheeks turned a bit red. It was probably hard for her to be forward and compliment a man, especially as a woman, when she was supposed to talk in double speak and learn how to say shit without ever really speaking her mind. 

“You’re endearing and easy to speak with because I’ve never once felt like you would judge me,” she gestured vaguely towards herself and looked away from him, the fading light somehow highlighting how delicate her features really were.

If someone saw her now, there’s no way in hell they could think she was a man. 

“Even with all this, from the moment you bandaged my hands that night… You took me at my word and have treated me fairly ever since. It made it easy for me to get along with you, even if your exterior is kind of…” she clicked her tongue and laughed, “prickly.” 

Hijikata snorted. 

Prickly, huh…?

She wasn’t wrong, but still … For some reason the fact that she liked him so much, that she relied on him… It made him feel good. 

Maybe a bit too good. 

“Then apply that logic to yourself,” he said, grabbing her sleeve to tug her forward as they made their way back to Mibu.

“All the guys here like you, and that includes Souji and Saito, the two most unsociable bastards I’ve met in my entire life. Maybe the issue wasn’t you, Hamamura,” he looked over his shoulder at her, finding her staring back at him with wide eyes that drank in his every word, “maybe the problem was the people you were spending time with.” 

“All of them like me?” she smiled back at him, her look of deep concern turning to something gentle and playful. “I had no idea you liked me so much, Vice-Chief. I’m honored.” 

“Shut up,” he grumbled, pushing at her shoulder. “I’m being serious, or are you telling me you’re going to take what I’m saying lightly?” 

“I always take the words of my commanding officer seriously,” she smiled back at him, letting herself be pushed, stumbling away. 

They were quiet for a moment, close enough to Mibu that his mind was already dwelling on what he was going to do with Yamazaki’s report… And then she spoke, her expression a bit more serious than it had been before. It was the kind of expression that he’d seen on people before, like the look on Kondou-san’s face when he’d said he hadn’t got the job as an Instructor or when the doctor’d delivered the news about Sanan-san’s arm. 

“Are you sure me being here is what you want?” 

He stopped and looked at her, about to scold her for asking such a stupid fucking question … But the look in her eye stopped him short. She looked despondent, like if he dismissed her outright she might break into pieces because of the uncertainty.

It was weird as hell to think of someone as ballsy as her as being fragile in any way when she’d taken punches from Serizawa and survived Fury attacks. Hell, she’d killed people which was frankly a lot more than some grown ass men who called themselves samurai could do … But here she was, looking at him for reassurance, for an affirmation that she belonged, and it forced him to remember why she’d ended up in Kyoto in the first place. 

Without this - without the Shinsengumi - she might well be out on her ass and just hope some people had a good enough will to take her in or else she’d have to go crawling back to her family to beg for their forgiveness. If she dressed as a man, she might have more options but then she’d give up even more than she already had, just for a dream almost anyone else would think was fucking insane. 

A woman, writing about some samurai, living with them, learning about them … Making sure they wouldn’t be forgotten no matter what happened … 

“You sound like Yukimura,” he finally said, heaving a breath that hissed between teeth he hadn’t realized he’d been clenching. “She was at Ikeda-ya bandaging wounds and getting people out of the way when they couldn’t fight. She even served as look out for Sano… And yet she still acts like she didn’t do anything. As Kondou-san tells it, you even killed a man there and you’re acting like we don’t want you?” 

Hijikata clicked his tongue and stepped towards her, pressing his finger into her shoulder as he watched her eyelashes flutter, peering up at him in a way that made him aware of his body, “when I gave you that blue jacket, you accepted it, Hamamura. You didn’t question it or run away, and you don’t turn your back in a fight, either … And that’s damn well more than I can say for a lot of others. What do I care if you bind your chest and wear men’s kimonos? Long as you give it your all as a member of the Shinsengumi nothing else matters.” 

He watched her relax, the smile returning to her face even as emotion swam in those eyes of hers, bright and golden as the sunshine. It was only when she shyly glanced away that he realized he was still staring at her, cursing himself for whatever the fuck this thing was that was developing between them… This stupid, ambigious, bullshit. 

Clearing his throat, Hijikata stepped back and adjusted the swords on his hip, nodding once in her direction. 

“Come on,” he ordered, “we’ve got a lot of unpleasant work ahead of us and I’m hoping to finish in time to have a stiff drink before tucking in for the night…” he flicked his gaze back towards her, allowing himself a bit of a smile that he felt tugging at a corner of his mouth. “If you’re up to it and you do a good enough job, I might even let you join me.”

Hamamura laughed and he relished the sound, refusing to admit to himself that he found it relieving, but it was really all the answer he needed. 

\--

She looked different dressed like a real lady, the shape of her suddenly more obvious to him than it’d ever been before. 

Sure, he knew she had long, strong legs from the times he’d watched her get her ass kicked by the guys … At least until she slowly started to be able to hold her own against them. He’d known she could hit pretty damn hard and put a lot into her swings, but he somehow hadn’t attributed that to her low center of gravity and her wide hips. 

One way or another, he was used to seeing her as a man until he couldn’t possibly do so anymore. 

Right now, clutching an umbrella like it was a wakizashi, she looked every bit like a furious woman about to scold a lecher… If that woman could break the lecher’s nose with a strong right hook. 

Without thinking, Hijikata stepped up to stand between the ronin and Hamamura, making sure she was situated behind him. Immediately he watched the thuggish bastards freeze in place when they saw his coat and noticed his men stepping out from between the onlookers, drifting like clouds across the sky; languid but no less dangerous. 

Like always, the people of Kyoto gave them a wide berth… Especially after the fucking rumors spread that they’d been the ones who set the fires after the Hamaguri gate incident. He could see the flames reflected in the eyes of every person there and grit his teeth in resentment, though none of it was focused on them.

They just believed what they were told, after all. 

Didn’t make it less of a pain in the ass to deal with. 

“Do I hear you making a scene?” Hijikata asked, placing his left hand on his scabbard and shifting his stance just enough that any man who’d drawn a blade could recognize his intent. “Pretty bold of you to try and start something on our patrol circuit. Or are you new in town?” 

He looked them down, then up, then down again … Their clothes were covered in dust and a few of them were still wearing hats. Looking for work then? 

Clicking his tongue in displeasure, he tilted his chin towards the ronin and the men in his command surrounded them slowly, walling them in. Blue coated wolves, circling their hapless prey that had gotten too big of a head coming into the city for the first time. 

If they were stupid enough to show their backs they’d be cut down in an instant. 

“Oi,” he turned to Hamamura, looking down into her face to find him looking back up at him with that same awed expression she wore any time she saw him working; even after this long she still didn’t seem to be used to it. “You saw what they were doing. Wanna tell me what was going on?”

“The usual,” Hamamura told him, dropping her eyes and completely lowering the umbrella, “extortion of townspeople… General disruption of the peace.” 

The rougher speech of a samurai’s page sounded bizarre coming out of her when she was dressed in a blue women's kimono, with flower print, complete with a tiny and intricately wrought obi pin. It sparkled in the sunlight like her eyes sometimes did, like they were right now as she looked up at, a recommendation for action clearly on the tip of her tongue. 

But she swallowed it back, and one again he found himself appreciative of her special brand of self-awareness. 

Nodding once, he turned his attention back to the ronin and took a step forward, narrowing his eyes as his gaze raked over them again. 

“Here’s what I’m going to do,” he said, “I’ll let you off with a warning, but only if you turn out your purses and give back to the people everything you took from them. If you don’t do that --” 

He drew his blade, watching the sunlight dance off its surface, listening to the hiss of metal as every man in his command mimicked his actions, “The Shinsengumi will have to take you in for crimes against the Emperor and the Lord Shogun -- either alive, or just your heads.” 

They didn’t take long at all to think, most of them valuing their own lives enough to do as he’d asked. True to his word, he let each of them pass once they’d handed out enough of their funds for him to be satisfied … though his eyes never left the faces of the most stubborn of their lot for long. 

“I want to know who this Shinsengumi thinks they are,” the ronin said. “I’ve heard you’re nothing more than a gang of brutish peasants lead by some kind of upstart farmer. No one with blood such as mine should have to --”

Hijikata did not give him a chance to finish speaking before the cool metal of his blade was pressed against the flesh of the man’s neck. 

“Let me tell you something about blood,” he said, curling his lips into a cold smile. “It all spills the fucking same. Doesn’t matter if it’s samurai blood or the blood of an upstart farmer.” He pressed the edge of his sword against the man’s neck just enough for blood to start to pool beneath it, “now do what I asked you to do.” 

There was still hesitance in the bastard’s eyes, his pride in whoever his ancestors had been so damn great that he couldn’t recognize when he’d been beaten. It was the same kind of smug attitude that had always gotten underneath his skin when he was just “Toshizou”, some brat from Tama who’d managed to beat the shit out of these same kinds of people with nothing but a stick and his bare hands. 

Luckily for him, Hijikata was no longer that punk kid and was also a man of his word.

“With all respect due to your position, samurai-san,” Hamamura said from behind him, stepping around him to look the man in the face, “I would do as he has requested. This man is not known for his mercy or tolerance. Surely even you’ve heard of the Shinsengumi’s Oni Vice-Chief?” 

“Oni…?” the man had dared to sneer at her for only an instant, but when that one word passed his lips he turned the appropriate shade of pants-shitting pale. 

Hijikata’s grin widened, “the lady’s right. You should take advantage of my offer. I promise you that I won’t be making it again if I catch you fucking around my city.” 

Fingers suddenly fat and fumbling, the man threw over half the contents of his purse on the ground before stumbling away, disappearing into the crowd like the coward he was. Snorting, Hijikata flicked the barest traces of the man’s blood from his sword and placed it back at his hip where it belonged, ignoring the people who scrambled for the money, knowing their presence alone would be enough to stop things from getting violent. 

That ronin didn’t deserve the swords he got to carry around by birth.

If he’d pulled that shit in a real battle, he’d be cut down. 

He never should have taken up the blade in the first place if he wasn’t willing to die with it in his hand. 

At least Serizawa’d had that much going for him. 

“Make sure they don’t go off and do anything stupid,” he told his men, shrugging off his coat to hand it over to one of them. “After that, meet up with Saito and Todou, if you can. I’m going to escort the lady back home.” 

They didn’t question him, but like Hamamura had already made abundantly clear he was the Oni Vice-Chief. His men generally listened to what he said without a word of … Unless they were Shinpachi or Souji, but those two were special cases and he’d have given them a bit more freedom to question his judgement just because they were Captains anyway. 

“You don’t need to escort me home--” she began to protest, silenced when he met her gaze, though she didn’t look away from him. “Thank you, Hijikata-san.” 

They walked in silence for awhile, though this time it was a bit more uncomfortable than he was used to it being. Hamamura was tense, glancing every which way as the two of them moved slowly back towards the base, her fingers playing against the wooden handle of her umbrella. 

He reached for it without any real thought, grabbing it and opening it so he could hold it for her, stepping close enough that both of them were covered by the shade. She looked at him, eyes wide, pink dusting the bridge of her nose and the tips of her small ears, as she bit her bottom lip and began to fidget with her sleeves instead. 

“You’re on edge,” he said, watching her release a breath, “it’s not like you to get flustered by that kind of shit, Hamamura.” 

“It’s not the ronin,” she reached up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “The entire street just saw me, as a woman, walk away with you. You singled me out as a victim, too … What are they going to think if I show my face this way again?” 

Her words made him pause, though only for a moment. 

With a snort, he looked towards her out of the corner of his eye and responded, “what, they’ll think you’re my lover? Who’s that gonna bother? I sure as hell don’t give a shit, especially since they’d find something to flap their damn gums about no matter what I did.”

Hamamura continued to worry her lip between her teeth, taking a breath as she smoothed her hands across the front of her kimono. 

“You’re right,” she said, “it’s technically of little consequence. I still can’t help but feel that I’m probably not up to the standard that people would expect of you.” 

“What the fuck?” 

The words had come out of his mouth before he even thought about what he was saying, pausing to openly stare at her. What the hell was she going on about? Not up to his standards? His standards for what, a lover? 

He’d taken all sorts and it had never mattered to him. 

When it came to women, he could appreciate just about any set of features if it also came with a strong will and the ability to actually hold a conversation. Women had plenty of virtues and enough people underestimated them that they were assets in all kinds of situations that idiots wouldn’t expect them to be useful in. 

It’s why it was worth it to spend so much time in Shimabara. 

“I’m not exactly a Yoshiwara beauty,” Hamamura said, her tone implying that it was obvious. 

“So what?” he looked at her, arching his eyebrows. “You’re a normal lady, not some high class courtesan paid for her womanly graces. Men don’t expect normal women to walk, talk, and act like the kind of ladies they go to brothels to see.”

He huffed out a sigh and took a step closer to her, getting a good look at her face. Reaching out, he tipped her chin up towards him, watching her turn even redder than she already was, the blush spreading to her cheeks.

But just like he’d expect of her, she didn’t turn away in embarrassment, standing her ground and meeting his eyes in spite of any bashfulness on her part. 

“I don’t see anything wrong with your face,” he said, looking her over for a good long moment. “High cheekbones, full lips … Sure, you’re tall and your shoulders are broad, but I don’t see why those things would be a dealbreaker for any guy,” Hijikata breathed out another sigh, shaking his head slowly, “especially not when you have other assets on your side.” 

“Assets…?” her prominent brow furrowed, and he nodded, moving his hand to tap her forehead. 

“You showed you were intelligent and well-informed. Not only that, but you stood with poise,” he said. “You’re confident about everything else, Hamamura. Why’s this such a hang up for you? It’s like you think being seen with you’s gonna damage my reputation and make men think I have shit tastes when I’m sure I’m not the only guy there who was impressed by you.” 

She finally looked away, crossing her arms over her chest, “do you really want to know?” 

“You seem to be pretty damn hung up on the idea that you’re unworthy,” he said, hating to see her look like this; there was no reason he could think someone like her should have to feel like shit about herself. “You’d probably feel more comfortable going over this shit with another woman, but I can’t say that I don’t want to know anyway.” 

“It’s just my father,” she said it with a smile but it still sounded like an admission, like something she should be ashamed of. “He spent my life telling me how lucky he was to have my younger sisters as daughters because their beauty helped attract people to his shop, and how I was fortunate I was good at domestic duties because I’d never impress a man otherwise.” 

Hijikata stared at her blankly, hardly able to believe that any parent could say something that stupid to their kid out loud … Even if that’s what they actually thought. Not that he knew much about what parents should be like, but he’d had his siblings and even when he did stupid shit they’d still tried to get him to rely on his own strong poitns to succeed. 

Besides, even there his problems had been behavioral… To get on your kid’s ass for something they couldn’t change…

“Who does he think you got your face from? Everyone knows kids tend to resemble their parents,” Hijikata held the umbrella up higher over both of them as he stepped closer again, “and even then, he’s wrong. You’re pretty enough that I noticed you right away when I was walking down the street, even before I realized it was you.”

… Fuck. 

What the hell had he just said? 

The blush that had vanished only moments before hit her again all at once, her face a fierce and fiery shade of red.

“You… did?” She asked in a small voice. 

“Uh… yeah. It looks good on you,” he gestured towards her vaguely, unable to make himself look at her for much longer. “You’re not a bad looking woman, and I’m not ashamed to be seen with you or whatever stupid shit was put in your head as a kid.” 

She didn’t say anything immediately, and since she was usually quick to respond he turned to look at her only to find her gazing at him with the softest expression on her face. 

The admiration he was so used to was there, but it was tinged with something else, something that made his heart stutter inside of his chest on instinct. Hijikata wasn’t stupid enough not to recognize it, the gentle look of longing with none of the shame and embarassment that she’d shown moments before, an endless well of affection trapped inside the depths of her honey-colored eyes. 

It trapped his breath in his throat, his fingers twitching as he realized he wanted to respond to it, his body restless with the need to reciprocate that look. 

“Thank you,” she said, breaking the silence. “I think so highly of you that… It means a lot to me to hear you say that. I think… It’s the first time I’ve ever believed anyone when they’ve called me pretty.” 

He couldn’t stop himself from touching her, reaching out to put his hand on her shoulder where it sat, comfortable. She was warm and softer than she looked, probably because she  _ was _ a woman… Something he didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget again, not when the way she looked now was burned into his mind. 

“I can’t have you emotionally compromised, Hamamura,” he said, smiling in spite of himself. “If that means boosting your pride as a woman, it’s a small price to pay.” 

He backed away, noting the way she reached up to touch her shoulder where his hand had just been.

“Yes, sir.”

Like it or not, Hijikata thought to himself, her voice had never sounded sweeter. 


	2. Chapter 2

Hamamura had really come into her own.

Even Souji seemed to acknowledge it, taking her more seriously on the occasions where they’d spar. There was no way she’d be a real threat to someone of his clear skill level, but she’d be able to match Gen-san blow for blow now… Hell, she might even be able to take him out, even though it was hard for him to say she actually practiced any particular style. 

Not that that mattered one shit to him, considering his own background. 

She really was the Shinsengumi’s pet project in that way, the result of disparate styles coming together in one person who probably had no right to be as damn right competent as she was. He’d feel comfortable taking her out on any patrol, especially when not even Souji could claim she was “dojo-good” anymore. 

“You know, she’s not that bad,” Shinpachi said from behind him, mimicking his thoughts as he flopped down onto the temple veranda. “I might even say her being good enough to hold her own is a silver lining in this entire Itou situation just because he’s not gonna think she’s a chick if she can smack around some guys for us.” 

Hijikata snorted, glancing over his shoulder as he took a drink of his now-cool tea. 

Swallowing, he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand and shrugged, “he doesn’t have a right to go after her anyway. She’s my fucking page so he can mind his own damn business and keep his nose out of it.” 

That being said… 

“Might have her go on some patrols again soon. He’ll start to wonder why the hell I don’t send her out to check on shit for me,” tilting his head back to stare at the blue expanse of the sky, he heaved a long sigh. “This is fucking bullshit.” 

Shinpachi’s laugh brought him back three or four years before there was any kind of hierarchy between them, especially when Sano joined him on his other side. He set a jug of sake down between them and several cups, grinning from ear to ear with Hijikata narrowed his eyes at him. 

“Oi, what’s this? Noon drinking?” 

“Lighten up, Hijikata-san,” Sano said, opening the jug to pour for him. “A single afternoon drink isn’t going to kill you, especially when I have something Hama-san can do for us that will keep Itou off of her tail.” 

Arching his eyebrow, Hijikata took the offered drink and slammed it back in one gulp before turning his attention back to Hamamura. Crossing ‘blades’ with Heisuke, who’d formerly looked pretty fucking troubled by all of this shit with Itou and Sanan, she took another near hit from him. Sweat had started to make her hair and clothing cling to her body, making it easier to see that there was no man’s chest underneath there… Though only if you were looking for it.

Hijikata suspected that fact made Itou a real risk to her. 

“Well?” he asked, eyes flickering towards Sano. 

“Chizuru-chan has a friend,” Sano explained, “this actual Lady who dresses like a Princess. She calls herself Sen and has been making a point of running into Chizuru-chan while one of us is on patrol with her. She seems to want to meet up, just the two of them … And I thought having Hama-san as a guard might suit you a bit better than one of us.” 

Someone constantly badgering Yukimura for a meet up, huh? 

Sanosuke himself didn’t seem to be too suspicious about it, but he was right to think Hijikata would be. If she were just another Kyoto woman from one of the shops or something, that would be one thing … But it sounded like she was targeting Yukimura on purpose. Sano was right to think that he’d trust Hamamura enough to keep an eye on things for him, and it would certainly be something trivial enough that Itou wouldn’t give a shit about it. 

“I’ll talk to them about it,” Hjijkata said. “Tell Yukimura I want to see her by the end of the day.” 

“She’s still scared shitless of you, you know,” Shinpachi commented, his tone conversational. “Yukimura-kun might think you’re an actual oni, or something.”

An actual oni, huh? 

There was an interesting thought, but not something he wanted to discuss with either of them … or at the very least he didn’t want to discuss it with Shinpachi here. Maybe he’d bring it up with Sano and the other guys who had extensive experience with those Satsuma-aligned bastards later, and he’d for sure talk about it with Hamamura. After all, she’d heard the full conversation that was had between Yukimura and those bastards while they were playing guard duty. 

A shout sounded and a grunt as Hamamura was finally knocked onto her ass, looking up at Heisuke who grinned back down at her like he’d just received a sweet-bean bun. Holding out his hand, he hoisted her to her feet, laughing as he did so … And it did Hijikata good to see him acting like himself again instead of dragging his feet and staring into the distance. 

If he were better with this kind of shit, he’d have said something to Heisuke about being torn between someone from his style’s school and his friends, but … It wasn’t his place anymore. He was Heisuke’s commanding officer now, not just his friend, and the kid was getting older so he had to start coming to his own decisions about this shit.

All Hijikata could do was respect whatever decision he came to, even if he was starting to suspect that decision would hurt. 

Jogging over to them, Heisuke immediately grabbed the cup out of Shinpachi’s hand and drained it in a single gulp. Booze probably wasn’t the best choice to drink after a rousing match, but they’d always been like that -- the three of them -- ever since they’d first met in Edo. 

Hamamura was more reasonable, pouring herself a cup of tea as she joined them on the veranda, pulling open her collar just enough to let the breeze cool her. Looking away, he made a noise in his throat and wondered what she would do if Itou or one of his mooks happened to see her, almost tempted to tell her to straighten herself out. 

But it was only the guys, and none of them saw her that way. 

To them she was just a sister, maybe the sister a few of them never had. 

He was the only one bothered by it. 

“Not a bad match, Hama-san,” Shinpachi said, snatching his cup back from Heisuke and lifting it to her. “You hit pretty hard, for a girl.” 

“If you want to see just how hard I hit, I could hit you,” she volunteered with a cool smile that was belied by the playfulness in her gaze. “I promise you my bruises will hurt less than your ego when I manage to take a round.” 

Heisuke laughed wildly, not bothered in the slightest when Shinpachi pushed him over and sent him careening into the dirt. Instead, he just sat there, rolling from side to side like he’d just seen the greatest comedy performance of all time. 

They were such fucking idiots, he thought with a smile. 

Feeling a pair of eyes on him, he glanced to his left to see Sano looking at him with a knowing smile on his face. Grunting, he frowned and looked away, hearing the bastard laugh as he turned his head to stare into the distance. 

Damnit.

Standing up, he made a face and nudged Hamamura with his foot, watching as she turned to look up at him. There was no trace of the way she’d looked at him that day when she’d been dressed as an actual woman and he hadn’t caught a glimpse of it since, but he was sure it was still there just beneath the surface. 

It’s not like you could just get rid of your feelings.

If you could, he’d have done it a long time ago. 

Hijikata crossed his arms over his chest and jerked his head in the direction of the bath, “go get cleaned up and then meet me in my room. We have some shit to go over and I have an assignment for you.” 

Hamamura nodded and drained the rest of her tea in a single gulp, “I’ll be right there, sir.” 

“You’d better make damn sure of it,” he said, and in spite of himself and his own better judgement, he watched her walk away until he couldn’t see her any longer. 

* * *

She didn’t make a noise even though she was clearly frightened, her nerves that of a born-samurai … Just like any of the guys. Pressed practically back to back, she lashed out when one of the ronin tried to test her with a small blow, blocking as she stomped down on his foot. 

A cry of pain was all he really needed to know what she’d done, followed by the familiar sound of a blade rending flesh and another scream. Just like he expected, the other ronin responded in kind and took her perceived slight seriously, closing in on the two of them so that they pressed even closer together. 

Finally, they were going to stop pussyfooting around. 

With a grin he dove at their closest opponent, driving him back towards the mouth of the alley so that people started to make a stink about the fight. Some of the guys were still out on patrol and drawing them here would give him and Hamamura an edge, if they didn’t resolve the issue themselves first. 

Planks crashed down into the alleyway behind him, hitting a few of the ronin and sending the others scattering away from them. He saw the dance at the edge of his vision, Hamamura sending them careening from their precarious position with a flick of her wrist and a smile of her own. 

“Bastard!”

The shout was loud enough to send birds flying from nearby rooftops and so was the resounding crash of blade against blade. He could hear Hamamura grunt, but she managed to push the guy away when she swept at his legs, spinning around to block someone else coming at her from the side. 

“Switch,” he grunted the order, the two of them pivoting around one another.“Drive them towards the mouth of the alleyway!”

She grunted in response just as the tip of his blade found him in one of the ronin’s shoulders, his sword falling to the dirt with a noisy clatter. Drops of the man’s blood joined it, the storm of dust and rocks that Hijikata kicked up with the sweep of his leg across the ground sending the guy careening back as he tripped over the wooden planks. 

“What kind of samurai are you!?” growled one the remaining men, shielding his face with the hem of his sleeve.

A blink later and their blades were locked, the idiot bearing down on Hijikata with a mighty roar, all of his strength behind that single blow. Dark eyes glowed with indignance and fury, probably at the fact that he’d had dirt thrown at him and had tripped over wood instead of being met blow for blow like this was some dojo match or a story about the duelists of the early days of the Shogunate. 

But this was real life, and real samurai knew how to use their environment to their advantage. 

The deep shadows around them vanished as Hijikata pushed the bastard back, Hamamura leading the charge into the streets where Shinpachi was already waiting with his men. The Shisengumi swarmed the remaining ronin like flies to a carcass, blue and white fluttering in the breeze as coats passed them on both sides. 

Just like that, their little scuffle was over, ronin finding themselves with their faces in the dirt for one reason or another … Either because their asses were about to be carted off to the Magistrate or because they’d never see anything ever again. 

“Nice work,” Hijikata turned around, finding Hamamura flicking the blood from her blade and sliding it back into place at her side. 

“It’s not the most terrifying thing I’ve encountered this week,” she said with a small smile, her eyes flickering briefly towards their civilian audience, her own blues covered with flecks of blood… Probably not much different than him, at the moment. “Besides, you were the one who asked me to consider going on patrols more frequently. How could I ever let you down, Vice-Chief?” 

He snorted, turning his attention back towards Shinpachi, who was holding his new friend the angry ronin by his arm. True to form, he was twisting and ranting even with newly bound wrists, talking shit about the Shinsengumi being a group of wolves without any kind of honor. It was all stuff he’d heard before -- how could respectable samurai actually let themselves be pulled around by their hair by a couple of farmer upstarts who had big heads. 

They should know better than to become bloodthirsty bandits at the instance of a greedy, corrupt, former merchant! Where was their samurai pride! 

“I left it in my other coat,” Shinpachi said blandly, rolling his eyes, “now shut the hell up, before I shut you up permanently. It’s not like the Magistrate will care if you have a tongue.” 

Hijikata watched him go, feeling Hamamura approach him to stand at his side, her eyes following Shinpachi and the ronin bastard for a long moment. He didn’t need to look at her directly to tell she was already thinking something, her prominent brow furrowed … Though whatever she was thinking she didn’t tell him, instead turning around to look back in the direction of their new temple home. 

“Are we done here for today, Vice-Chief?” she asked him, “or would you like me to continue on the rounds?” 

“You can go back,” he nodded once, “I’ll see to the clean up here. If we got anything new from a courier, put it on my desk.” 

She bowed, just like one of the men, and turned to go. 

Once again, he found himself watching her walk away, shaking himself of his wandering thoughts to put his mind to work. By the time he returned from overseeing the arrests and dispensing the troops to calm the people and resume their patrol, it was getting to be close to meal time. 

He slipped into his room only to find Kondou-san was already there, sorting through the letters on his desk. Arching his brows, he stared at the back of Kondou’s head, counting the seconds until he was noticed. 

Halfway through picking up a letter to examine it, Kondou paused and then looked over his shoulder, jumping nonetheless when he saw Hijikata… Even though he had to know who was standing there. Smiling to himself, he stepped forward and took the letter in Kondou’s hand, noticing it was addressed to Kondou from Sato Hikogoro.

Snorting, he passed it back and sunk down into a seated position to look up into Kondou-san’s face, “figures he’d write you and not me. He probably thinks whatever he’s asking for is going to get a more favorable response if he appeals to your good nature.” 

Kondou chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck but sunk into a sitting position across from Hijikata nonetheless, tucking the letter into his sleeve, “it’s because you’re too harsh on him, Toshi. You’ve refused to return to visit the last three times he’s asked you, even when he brought up how much his sons miss you.” 

“That’s because he tries to appeal to my sentimentality,” Hijikata looked over the letters Hamamura had placed there, noting most of them were from businesses they’d had contact with in the past. “You ask Hamamura what all came in or something? Seemed like you were looking for something pretty specific.” 

“She’s a good page, Toshi,” Kondou said with utmost confidence. “She has excellent attention to detail and even told me what pile she’d put the letter in. I think she might know where things are in here better than you do.” 

He paused, and Hijikata could already tell he was about to say something stupid or annoying… Possibly both. 

“She’s loyal and intelligent,” Kondou-san continued, “two traits that I think would be excellent in a wife.” 

“Too bad you’re already married,” Hijikata said blandly, refusing to meet Kondou’s eyes as he searched his desk for his brush and an ink stone … Where would Hamamura have put it? 

Even so, he could feel the withering look Kondou leveled at the back of his head, sharper than it usually was with any of the others. Then again, the others were people he mentored and looked after, and he was usually on severe when it came to training them as swordsmen… Hijikata was something else, his peer and friend. 

Hell, it had been over a decade now since they’d met. 

Unfortunately for him in cases like this, that meant that he couldn’t rely on the chain of command to avoid talking about this shit. 

“Toshi, I appreciate your sense of humor, but you know very well what I was referring to,” there was a huff in Kondou-san’s voice, a touch of indignance that rarely showed itself. “She’s a good match for you, and you’ve already set aside getting married once. Hamamura is unattached and I know that your family wouldn’t have any objections to you taking her as your wife as long as it made you happy.” 

He sighed heavily, finally finding his brush and inkstone, glaring at them as if they were the ones giving him such an utterly stupid speech that was a waste of everyone’s breath and time. Chewing his lip, he finally looked over his shoulder at Kondou, who was staring back at him, completely undaunted by the severity of his expression. 

“That assumes marrying her would make me happy,” he said. 

“Toshi.” 

When Kondou-san said his name like that, it made him feel like they were back at the dojo and he’d just said something stupid in front of Sensei… Or he’d put his foot in his mouth in front of someone they were trying to impress… Or any number of things that had happened back when he’d had a shorter fuse and a chronic inability to keep his damn mouth shut. 

“You might be able to hide the fact that you have any kind of attachment to her in front of the men, and you know I respect your ability to protect her from their judgement for her own safety, but you can’t hide it from me,” the words were severe and cutting, and it was his turn to reach up to rub the back of his neck, hoping to shield int from Kondou’s eyes. “I know that you care about Mako-san, and not just as a friend.” 

Biting his lip, he tried to stop himself from lashing out and saying something cruel just to avoid the subject … It’s not like he didn’t have his reasons for keeping his distance from her. None of them were stupid reasons, either, because he didn’t give a fuck about his image … But she didn’t seem to be aware of how he felt about her and it was better that they keep it that way. 

At the end of the day, he was still an infamous public figure ... And while he respected Hamamura’s ability to be as fearless as any good samurai he’d ever met, he didn’t think it was fair he put any more of a target on her head just because she was sharing his bed. After all, politicians and ruffians all around knew that a man’s weakness could often be located in his woman, and he respected her too much to see her used that way. 

Hamamura was more than some pawn, she was … 

“I know that you want to keep her by your side, Toshi,” Kondou continued, stopping his thoughts from wandering any further. “Even if no one else in the world knew, I could still tell by the way you look at her when she’s not looking back.” 

“So what?” he asked, gripping the front of his hakama just so that he had a place to put his restless hands. “I want her close, but if she’s too close she’s suddenly a liability. Not only that, but it could put the entire reason she’s here in the first place at risk.” 

He looked at Kondou-san, refusing to look away or pretend they were talking about a different problem any longer. 

“Hamamura wants to write, and if I make her my wife and people find out that we were married, she gets sent back off to Tama and can’t pursue the reason she gave up living as a woman in the first place. She loses a part of herself to gain something else that might not even amount to anything if she has to live a two week’s journey away from me,” reaching up, he ran his hand over his face. “I’m not the kind of man who can afford to play house, and I’m not going to ask her to give up on something important to her just because I want her to warm my bed.” 

Especially not when he knew what it was like to be told you could never achieve something that you’d spent your entire life wanting. 

“I can’t take that from her,” he said with a note of finality in his voice, “‘sides, having a wife isn’t a necessity for me. Hamamura and I work just fine together the way we are and I don’t see a reason to change that just became I’m a bit sentimental about her.” 

Kondou seemed to want to say something more, but he also seemed to know now wasn’t a good time to say it. Reaching out, he placed his hand on Hijikata’s shoulder, squeezing as he offered him a smile, “you could do to have a bit more of a positive attitude, Toshi. It’s exactly because Mako-san’s such a willful woman that she’s a good match for you.” 

Standing, Kondou-san looked towards the door, perhaps seeing beyond it to the outside world where their friends and family still lived day to day … Normal people with normal lives who didn’t spend day in and day out navigating the bloodsoaked streets of Kyoto and its intricate politics. People who had kids and had never wanted to be anything other than what they were always born to be, though Hijikata felt the same way. 

What did you do when what you were born to  **_be_ ** contradicted what you were born  **_into_ ** ? 

You made sacrifices, and remembered that they wouldn’t be sacrifices if it didn’t hurt to give them up in the first place. 

* * *

It was a normal night for him. 

He’d sent Hamamura to bed long ago and had only just gotten prepared to sleep himself, the moonlight streaming through the shoji and his window the only light he had to see by. Hijikata’d already started brushing out his hair when he heard her scream of pain, every nerve in his body suddenly alight and aware as it seldom was. 

Before he even fully realized what he was doing, he’d taken his longsword from its place and slammed his doors open, thundering down the halls without any regard for what else might be happening. There was no time, especially not if she was already injured, and any threat inside their base was almost certain to be supernatural in nature because nothing else would have the balls - let alone the ability - to make it all the way inside. 

Coming to a halt outside the room Hamamura shared with Yukimura, he was unsurprised to see Souji and Sano already there, their blades wet with blood, shoji screens knocked askew and busted by the weight of a body flying through them. Clicking his tongue, he drew his weapon as his eyes caught the shapes of a pair of bodies inside the room, one hunched in the unmistakable posture of a Fury who’d already lost his fucking mind. 

Hijiakta wasted no time. 

It wasn’ his first time putting these bastards out of their misery and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last, the sound of steel grating against steel as the second shape blocked a blow from the Fury the only signal he needed. Crying out in wordless rage, he plunged his blade straight through the monster’s heart, waiting to feel it shudder and grow limp before he tore his sword away and let the body fall to a ground with a heavy thud. 

Another life wasted. 

Who was it this time? Which face would he recognize if he looked at the twisted body on the ground? 

Hamamura cursing drew his attention back to where it should have been, watching as she dropped her weapon to the ground before following suit. Nightclothes rumpled enough that her shape was as apparent as day, that was nothing compared to the angry, red wound that traveled from the side of her left shoulder across her back. 

Yukimura, trembling in a corner, didn’t have a scratch on her which meant Hamamura’s wound was most likely a defensive one. 

Throat tight with relief and anger in equal parts, he flicked his own sword clean and returned it to its scabbard before he fell to Hamamura’s side. Pulling the sheets from the futon below into his hands, he pressed them to Hamamura’s wound to attempt to staunch the flow of blood… And was relieved when the wound felt shallow to the touch. 

“Get Yukimura out of here,” he ordered, voice rough.

Sanosuke did just as he asked without any question and touched Yukimura like she was fragile, likely to crumble to dust at any second… Which was just as well because she looked like she was about to burst into tears. 

Hamamura just looked pissed and in pain, her head bowed as she let Hijikata take care of her. 

His palms were sticky with her blood. 

“I’m okay,” Hamamura muttered, her voice strained and barely audible. “Better me than Yukimura, right?” 

He didn’t mention that Yukimura was probably an oni and that she’d have been able to heal herself in moments, because Hamamura was right in that she’d handle being injured better, even so. Hijikata would have expected nothing less of Hamamura than to throw herself in front of someone unable to defend themselves, but it still hurt him to see her this way, especially when he was the who who’d kept the fucking medicine in the first place. 

She never even should have had the chance to see the Furies, but here she was … Bound to them by the secret, living like a man and getting injured like one. At the sound of new footsteps, he turned his body to cover her, holding her uninjured shoulder with his hand to brace her against his chest. 

“What is the meaning of this!?” demanded an all too familiar shrill voice. “Why is there a woman here!?” 

“It seems my arrival is ill-timed,” muttered the voice of Sanan, accompanied by the sound of his footsteps, which sent Itou spiraling into further hysterics that were only silenced by the arrival of a third person. 

“Kondou-san, what exactly is going on here?!” Itou’s words continued to fall from his mouth at an alarming rate, his shrieks about Sanan and the Furies loud enough to draw the attention of every man on base.”You told me that Sanan-kun had died! And why is this woman on base in the first place?!”

“I will explain everything to you, but not here,” Kondou’s voice was authoritative, calm, like it so often was in front of the people who needed to hear the Chief of the Shinsengumi and not Isami from the Sticks. “Toshi, I entrust the injured to your care.” 

He nodded, knowing that this wouldn’t end well for them, grateful he’d put contingencies in place for just this scenario long ago… Except it meant losing Saito to keep an eye on Itou, and the way things were going … He didn’t trust all the men would stay behind, either. They could lose a lot of people through this, but it was clear that Itou had no intention of staying. 

Negotiating the best terms possible for them was up to Kondou-san, now. 

“I have things handled here,” Hijikata said, looking to the pale and exhausted looking Souji before heaving a sigh. “You can get back to bed, now. I’ll have Gen-san secure the perimeter and oversee cleanup and I’ll have Shinpachi and Sanan check on the Furies.” 

Souji, for once, didn’t argue and he wondered why until he saw his reflection in Hamamura’s blade… Pale, severe expression, holding her like he’d rip out the throat of anyone who spoke to him the wrong way. Kondou’s sentiments during their last conversation flashed through his mind, swallowing past the anger that had placed a lump in his throat. 

“Yamazaki,” he said, watching as the man seemed to materialize from the shadows, looking up into that familiar face. “I need you and Shimada to clean up here and take care of the body. I’m gonna go take care of Hamamura’s wound.” 

He pulled her to her feet, dropping the sheet onto the ground as he kept his hand on her good shoulder to steady her. He watched her adjust the front of her nightclothes, though it was awkward for her to do so with only a single hand, no one there needing her situation explained to them. 

“Lean on me,” he muttered, drawing her closer to try to hide her from the prying eyes of Itou’s men, “and don’t look behind you. Just keep your head held high.” 

She did as he asked, but he could tell she was ashamed to be seen this way by so many men. Hamamura was a proud woman, so it made sense to him that she’d feel this way, he only wished he could shoulder some of that burden for her and hoped his acceptance would change the tone of the whispers that hissed behind their backs. 

Fucking snakes, all of them. 

Yet she did as he asked, not once looking back at any of Itou’s men or showing weakness in spite of the wound on her back and her state of undress. This close to her he could feel the shame radiating off her, but none of it was reflected in her expression or her posture, proud and dignified like the warrior she was. 

Only when they’d made it back to his room did she finally break down, her legs losing strength as she collapsed against him, burying her face in his shoulder. Slowly, he lowered them both to the ground, setting his blade aside to stroke his fingers through her hair and hold her close as he could without agitating her wound. 

Hamamura didn’t cry, the pain probably would have done that already if it was going to happen, but her body trembled underneath his touch and her fingers wove into the fabric of his nightclothes. He could hear her fighting to gain control of her breathing and it made him furious to think that Itou had managed to do this much damage in this short amount of time. 

If he or his men were to talk about Hamamura… 

To say he was pissed off was an understatement. 

“You okay?” he asked, pulling away from her far enough to look into her face. 

“No,” she shook her head, “unless you can promise me that Itou’s not about to tell everyone in the world that the awful, horrible Shinsengumi keeps women as slaves and forces them to dress as men for their entertainment?” 

“He won’t if Kondou-san has anything to say about it,” Hijikata reassured her, keeping his hand pressed to the side of her face. “You can trust him to protect the interests of the Shinsengumi and its members, Hamamura.” 

She looked at him and then smiled before bowing her head, finding the will to respond, “I do trust him - trust _ you _ \- but I don’t want to bring shame to the Shinsengumi.”

That wouldn’t happen. 

There’s no way someone like her could ever bring shame to the Shinsengumi when she was as much of a warrior as any of them. Two swords hung at her hip, her hands were rough, and she’d killed men with those same hands and borne it better than he ever would have thought possible when they first met. 

Even if the rest of the world looked down on her for it, they’d never feel that way. 

“You’re one of us,” Hijikata said, then motioned for her to move, “come on, turn around. We need to get that cut treated.” 

He stood up, getting what he’d need and giving her the privacy in case she felt… Wrong about this. It’s not like they had a woman available to treat her, though, when the kid was indisposed like this and he did have some of the steadiest hands… They’d call Matsumoto Sensei to take a look at it later, but it had to be bandaged in the meantime, at the least. 

Hijikata turned back around, finding her with her robe pulled down her shoulders facing away from him. There was a blush that started from the tips of her ears and spread to the back of her neck, impossible to hide or pretend it wasn’t there… Even if she didn’t talk about it the evidence of it was, and hung between them, real and awkward and heavy. 

“Thanks,” he muttered, sitting behind her and brushing her hair aside so it didn’t get in the way, “just sit tight.” 

Hijikata set to work, cleaning up around the edges of the wound, listening to her hiss and grit her teeth each time he came close to it. It did look painful, but he’d also seen worse… Wounds that destroyed lives, like Sanan’s arm. She was going to recover, even if she had a scar from this, a scar on the pale skin of her back, where the sun hadn’t reached it. 

“Your skin is soft,” he muttered without thinking. 

It was far softer than any man’s, another reminder to his senses that she was a woman, the woman that he wanted to be  _ his _ woman. 

Damnit, Kondou -- Making him think shit he didn’t want to think about!

He focused on the act of bandaging her, refusing to think about the fact that she was barely clothed in front of him. Hamamura was just another member of the Shinsengumi -- 

No, that wasn’t true. 

She was his dedicated page, had been there when they’d gotten those first blue coats, and was party to Serizawa’s assassination. He’d given her her first short sword to celebrate her promotion when he’d granted her more responsibility over their men, taken her to speak to the Aizu with him and Kondou-san, and trusted that if she were ever captured the truth of the Furies couldn’t be tortured from her. 

He couldn’t lie to himself or pretend that it was just a matter of attraction. 

Hamamura … He trusted her more than most people. 

She might as well be one of the guys, except that she wasn’t. 

He held her in special esteem, even among his friends, had let her in and told her things that he wouldn’t have if he didn’t have absolute faith in her. She knew things about him that only a few other people knew, and she trusted him enough to show him her back, to expose her vulnerabilities to him completely. 

It was time he stop lying to himself.

Nothing could ever come from it, and he’d meant what he’d told Kondou-san, but maybe he did want to marry her. 

Maybe… He wanted her to be close to him because he cared for her like he hadn’t cared for a woman for a very long time. It might even be deeper than that, since he would be fine sharing the rest of his life with her … No, because he  **_wanted_ ** to share his life with her. He wanted her with him, and it was probably selfish because he wouldn’t ever do anything about the feelings they both had… 

But… 

“There,” he said, pulling away. “I’ll step out to get some hot sake for you. You should change into something else and then get your ass in the futon.”

“Your futon?” she asked quietly, shrugging the cloth back onto her shoulders to cover herself again; the action was shy, her posture demure and ladylike, for once. 

“Yeah, my futon. I have shit I could be doing anyway and this is going to have implications for the Shinsengumi that require my immediate attention. I’ll wake you if I need anything else from you,” he hovered in the doorway for a moment longer, watching as she turned around to face him. 

She smiled at him, though it was tired and drawn, a lot like the way he felt nowadays. 

“Be sure to do it,” she said, wrapping her arms around her chest, “we both know you’d fall apart without me.” 

He snorted, and thought that while it may not be true, he’d have a hell of a time getting by. 


End file.
